


I Know You're Awake

by AliceMcGee



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 16:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMcGee/pseuds/AliceMcGee
Summary: After a long session in O.R., Hawkeye has trouble falling asleep. He needs to feel close to someone, just for one night. Lucky he has such a good friend in Trapper.





	I Know You're Awake

Hawkeye was tired. Scratch that. He was exhausted. More than exhausted. He was a tiny little step from falling into a coma. Back in the O.R., with almost unlimited adrenaline his body supplied, it had been easy to forget he was only human. In there, he was a god, a life bringer. But once the pre-op was finally empty and nurse Able offered to close his last patient for him (a pale ginger boy, no older than eighteen. He should have been back home, trying to woo some girl. Instead, he was lying on the table with a shallow, but ugly long wound on his back), all of those eighteen hours of work crushed him at once. It was a miracle he got to his cot.

So where the hell was sleep? The war was quiet, for a change, Frank was serving a shift in the Post-op, and Hawkeye was really, really tired. He had a right to sleep.

“Hawk.” The word was a little more than a sigh, Trapper’s voice muffled as he spoke into his pillow. “You’re not asleep. You spent eighteen hours in the O.R. and you’re not sleeping. Why?”

“Look who’s talking. If I recall correctly, you were there the whole time, making bad jokes. Why are you awake?”

“My back is killing me,” Trapper said. “It’s stiff as hell.”

“You need a massage? I have two very skilled hands and few new tricks up my sleeve.” Hawkeye offered half-heartedly. Giving a massage was a bit too much effort for his aching muscles, but maybe a little physical activity would tip him over to Doze-land.

“I don’t need a fucking massage, I need a proper bed. This thing should be outlawed.”

“The Chinese invented it.”

“Figures.” Trapper grumbled and sat up. “I can’t sleep like this.”

Hawkeye propped himself up on his elbows. His vision was blurred and it was dark, but he still could make out his friend unceremoniously making space between their cots, moving his bed to the side, and tossing a pillow on the floor. Then Trapper went to Frank’s bed and took the blanket. Cursing under his breath, he made a makeshift bed right in front of their still. He stretched there and pulled his own cover over himself. Then looked up at Hawkeye, a smile on his lips. Despite the darkness, Hawkeye saw how bloodshot his eyes were. Something in his chest clenched and for a second, he was overcome by a sudden wave of affection. Sometimes, he forgot that he wasn’t in this hell alone. And whenever he reminded himself of Trapper’s friendship, he had to squish an urge to throw himself at him and give him a big sloppy kiss.

He grinned to hide his silly sentiment.

“Better?”

“I could use a cuddle buddy. Wanna join me?” Trapper grinned back and lifted a corner of his blanket. Hawkeye just snorted and lay back down, feeling like his head was full of clouds.

It wasn’t that weird, that dull longing to be right there next to Trapper. War did this to people. Living in the constant fear of dying, hearing choppers at any given time and knowing there would be blood and pain and probably death, it got in your head, under your skin. It made everything taste bitter, things appear bleak, the letters from home sound like a whole other life. A fantasy, even. Wanting to feel something real, someone’s warm body full of life, to listen to someone’s beating heart, was a natural response. And Hawkeye was never very good at denying himself what he wanted.

“Trapper?” he whispered.

“Yeah?” A reply came immediately.

“My bed’s awful too. Move over?” said Hawkeye, sitting up. Despite his best effort, the uncertainty crept into his voice. Trapper didn’t say anything, just lifted his blanket again. Hawkeye slid from his bed and lay on his back next to Trapper. They weren’t pressed together, but Hawkeye was painfully aware of all parts of his body touching Trapper’s. His shoulder, his arm, his thigh, and calf. His hand. There was the warmth, the closeness he’d craved without really knowing it. He had to remind himself not to be weird, not to wrap himself around Trapper.

Maybe this war wasn’t even real. Or maybe it was over. Maybe the peace was already being established, but the news just didn’t reach them yet. Or maybe they were the last two people on Earth - the unusual silence of the camp would back it up.

Hawkeye yawned and tried to chase those thoughts out of his mind. Trapper’s breathing was even and deep, meaning he’d probably fallen asleep. Hawkeye concentrated on the rhythm of Trapper’s breath and the feeling of being currently safe, right next to his best friend. For a while, it seemed to work.

His libido didn’t get the memo of being too exhausted, though. His cock strained against his shorts. It was outrageous. Hawkeye’s body was forever out of order.

He turned to lay on his side, hoping for his blood to flow somewhere, anywhere else than his cock. But Trapper reacted to that movement, turning too, his hand grabbing Hawkeye’s waist and pulling him close. Hawkeye’s breath caught in his throat.

 _Relax_ , he told himself. _You’re both too tired to properly function. Trapper’s probably dreaming about his wife. And you’re just reacting to the presence of another human. It’s perfectly normal and natural, it will go away in no time, and you should sleep._

He closed his eyes again and once more tried to coordinate his breathing with Trapper’s. It lasted for approximately half a minute. Then Trapper’s hand moved, stroking Hawkeye across his stomach and down his thigh, and coming back up, pushing the hem of his undershirt out of its way. Hawkeye’s eyes opened wide and he had to bite his bottom lip in order to not make a sound. He wasn’t able to stop a sharp intake of breath when Trapper’s hand touched his now exposed skin. Suddenly, his brain was far too alert, all thoughts of sleep tossed out and replaced by a storm of contradictory feelings.

Trapper’s hand was now resting just above Hawkeye’s navel, his thumb caressing Hawkeye’s skin in small circles. It was at the same time familiar and brand new. It was soothing and unnerving. He wanted to get up and get away from his friend, from this tent, from this situation. He wanted to stay there forever, to push himself into Trapper, to lose himself in his arms.

_It’s not you he’s touching, not in his mind. You need to get up and go to your own bed, this whole thing is a mess. It’s not fair to stay and let him do something he wouldn’t even consider doing when awake._

But he just couldn’t find the strength to get away. It was different from being with a woman. He was always the one doing the holding and never the one being held, so he soaked up all the new feelings. Trapper’s warm breath tingling the back of his neck. His back propped against the solidity of Trapper’s chest. Being completely surrounded by Trapper’s presence. Secure. He finally felt secure.

There was still the matter of his arousal that didn’t let him fool himself into believing this was completely chaste and platonic. He couldn’t handwave it as a purely physical reaction when there were feelings. Pleasure from the contact between his skin and Trapper’s fingers, and a desire to have more. Excitement from a new experience. Ache to touch Trapper too, but he didn’t dare to move a single muscle. There were hundreds of ways this could end in a disaster. He would just have to wait it out.

But all those thoughts flew out the window when Trapper’s hand moved again, running down Hawkeye’s hip, his thumb brushing Hawkeye’s shaft. Hawkeye clenched his teeth so hard it was a miracle it didn’t shatter. It took all his willpower to stay quiet. Then Trapper’s hand slid off his thigh, his palm covering Hawkeye’s cock, and the sensation finally ripped a grunt from his throat.

He froze. Forgot to breathe. Forgot to think. His whole existence shrank to the point of that touch. He didn’t know how much time had passed before the silence was interrupted.

“I know you’re awake, Hawk,” Trapper said, his voice husky.

And with that, Hawkeye’s ability to breathe came back, only three times faster. He had no idea what to say, what to do. He didn’t know how to react to this version of his best friend, the one whose hand was still touching him, whose other hand pulled him closer and who rocked his hips against him, letting Hawkeye feel his own arousal.

“We can stop, if you want,” Trapper offered when Hawkeye failed to react.

“No!” Hawkeye blurted out when Trapper’s hand started retreating. “I mean… What is happening? Am I having some really weird dream? Did you drug me?” he asked, grateful beyond all measure for the darkness that concealed his blush.

“I didn’t,” Trapper said with a chuckle and Hawkeye realized he’d grabbed Trapper’s hand. He let go and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“What is happening?” he asked again, making his voice as steady as he could manage. Which wasn’t nearly steady enough.

“We’re both adults, right? I know you can’t sleep because you need to blow off some steam, but you’re too tired to make any real effort with Baker. So I’m completely altruistically offering my help,” Trapper said and his hand returned to Hawkeye’s thigh, caressing and scratching his skin lightly. Hawkeyes eyelids fluttered shut and his whole body shuddered.

“Altruistic, hm?” he murmured, rocking back against Trapper’s groin. Trapper laughed softly again, a sound dirtier than anything Hawkeye usually associated with his best friend. There was a small rational part of his mind that was stunned and shocked. But there was also a very horny part that wanted this. And then Trapper scraped the back of Hawkeyes neck with his teeth.

“This a one-time thing, right?” Hawkeye said as he once again rocked back. “We’re not going to talk about it in the morning?”

“Now you’re getting the idea,” Trapper said, his roaming hand finding Hawkeye’s cock through the fabric of his shorts. The sensation was at the same time too much and not enough. Hawkeye made a sound dangerously similar to a whine.

“Come on,” Trapper whispered, lining his lips with Hawkeye’s ear. “Stop thinking about it.” And with that, his hand finally slipped under Hawkeye’s shorts and touched his flesh. Hawkeye’s eyes rolled back with the sensation - it was so different, to have a big, strong hand there instead of a delicate female one. Trappers grip was different, too, firmer and sure.

But Hawkeye wanted more. Needed more. A soft moan escaped his lips before he could speak up.

“That’s it, Hawk. Just feel. Pretend it’s Baker’s hand or something.” Trapper said and lightly bit Hawkeye’s earlobe. Hawkeye almost laughed at that - as if it were nurse Baker he was thinking about!

“I want… I need…” he started, but then stopped, licking his lips nervously. These were unknown waters for him. What demands were okay and which were out of the question? Was there some border he didn’t know about, and would Trapper back away in disgust, should Hawkeye cross it? Not to mention he wasn’t even sure himself what was it he needed.

“Mmm?” Trapper murmured, rubbing his face against the nape of Hawkeye’s neck. Which didn’t really help Hawkeye with the vocabulary, but it made him a bit bolder. Letting Hawkeye feel his stubble didn’t really correspond with his suggestion of picturing a woman.

“Trap, I need…” Hawkeye started again but then gasped as Trapper did something new with his fingers. And then he chuckled, that bastard, clearly enjoying himself. Hawkeye caught his hand so he would have the space to put together a whole sentence.

“Would it be weird if I turned around?” he asked, his eyes staring into the darkness of their tent. For a moment, he was afraid Trapper would deny him.

“Okay,” he finally said. Hawkeye spun and found himself snuggled right against Trapper’s body. They were both heavy breathing and their chests collided, which sent another wave of pleasure through Hawkeye.

He was a bit lower than Trapper and had to crane his neck to look at Trapper’s face. Trapper’s cheeks were flushed, his eyelids heavy and his lips slightly parted. Hawkeye realized that behind all those dirty chuckles and confidence, his best friend was as desperate for touch as Hawkeye was. And Hawkeye was surprised by himself because it wasn’t just some dirty getting off he wanted. He was never a big fan of elaborate lovemaking, optioning for quick and intense, which worked probably best, given the circumstances usual for his trysts with nurses. This was different. He wanted to touch and be touched, he wanted to feel alive. He wanted to be close to someone… No, not someone. He wanted to be close to Trapper. So he decided to take a leap of faith and leaned in.

The first contact between their lips was just a ghost of a kiss. Then Hawkeye pulled away to check if they were still alright. And in Trapper’s eyes, he saw his own desires mirrored. He wanted to reassure Trapper, but words seemed too rough for the mood. So he kissed Trapper again, properly this time, and tried to pour all his emotions into the kiss.

When they parted, they were both gasping for air. Trapper’s hand went back to Hawkeye’s cock and there was a desperate edge to his motions. Hawkeye wanted to tell him a thousand things. Instead, he buried his face in Trapper’s shoulder, trying to stop himself from moaning loudly. Trapper read his reactions like an open book, slowing down few times just as Hawkeye’s climax started to build up. He didn’t know how long it lasted before he started begging Trapper for release, his voice hoarse and high pitched.

When he finally came, stronger than ever, his brain short-circuited, his vision shattering into blinding whiteness. He felt like he’d been coming for hours, his hair standing on end, his blood pounding so loud in his ears it drowned out every other sound. He clung to Trapper so hard he couldn’t tell where his own body ended and Trapper’s began.

When he started coming back to his senses, he blindly kissed Trapper’s mouth. Continually, he became aware of the wetness on his stomach, the tremble of his hands, and Trapper’s erection poking him in the hipbone.

“Here, let me,” he croaked, fumbling with Trapper’s shorts. He was so eager to return the favor he didn’t even realize this was the first time his fingers wrapped around other man’s cock. The sensation was amazing, but feeling Trapper’s fingers digging into his skin, seeing Trapper’s eyes go wide and then close in pleasure, seeing his teeth biting into his lower lip and hearing his ragged breaths was even better. And knowing he was the cause of it all was more intoxicating than anything their still could ever produce. He felt like the time had stopped outside their own little bubble. Like nothing mattered except for the two of them and their closeness.

Unable to play with Trapper the same way he’d played with him, Hawkeye focused on kissing him, drinking up every little gasp and moan that fell from Trapper’s lips. And when Trapper ripped his mouth away to bite Hawkeye’s shoulder as he spilled over Hawkeye’s hand, Hawkeye’s body shuddered with an echo of Trapper’s orgasm.

They kissed once more, slow and sweet. The unrealness was continually fading away, replaced by the harsh presence of war. Hawkeye wanted to ask something, but the words just weren’t coming to his mind. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to know. Whether it was really just a one-time thing? Whether there was a possibility of a repeat in the future? Whether it had been as spectacular for Trapper as it was for him? Whether it meant something real?

Before he made sense of that, Trapper was already asleep, this time for real, holding him snuggled to his chest. And before Hawkeye could decide whether to extricate himself from Trapper’s embrace, those long hours finally got to him. Lulled by Trapper’s heartbeat, he was falling asleep - without answers, without reassurances, without certainty. Bit by bit, distant sounds of war were creeping into his mind again. Nothing had changed, not really.


End file.
